


Softest Of Software

by markipwiwer



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Chase Brody is minor, Dark actually isn’t super important in this either, M/M, Multi, Wilford and Anti figuring out how to interact when they’re such polar opposites is my kink, murder boyfriends, weapons in decent detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 02:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14632155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markipwiwer/pseuds/markipwiwer
Summary: Anti feels the need to do some sort of Grand Gesture to prove that he really cares about Wilford - not just because they’re both dating Dark.





	Softest Of Software

**Author's Note:**

> I swear you’ll have to pry healthy communication in dantistache from my cold dead hands

For some reason, Dark always seemed to be the constant in the triad that was Dark, Wilford and Anti.

There were times when it was just Dark and Anti, and Wilford felt like he was interrupting something a little more special than him. Or when it was just Dark and Wilford, and Anti knew there was just so much there, so much history that he couldn’t possibly compete with. But every time, without fail, Dark made the other feel included and wanted and special. Sometimes it felt like Wilford was dating Dark, and Anti was dating Dark, and Anti and Wilford were just sort of together by accident, by proxy.

If someone asked Wilford if he loved Anti, he’d get all excited and gush on and on; “Of course I love him! The little virus, he definitely knows how to put a spark in my life!”

If someone asked Anti if he loved Wilford, he’d scoff, kick his shoes at the ground and, depending on how energetic he was feeling, pull out a pretty knife and make threats; “If ye ever try to bring that shit up again, I’ll tear up yer pretty little throat. Got it?”

So the feeling was mutual.  
They just hadn’t really figured out how to make it seem mutual yet.

Anti wasn’t great at dates or romantic gifts or gestures or whatever, but Dark wasn’t too picky. He was elegant, sure, but he was simple in his elegance, and Anti had figured out how to cater to that. But Wilford... who fucking knew with that lunatic?

Anti did NOT want to try and consult Dark on this very sensitive manner, lest he lose all his respect and credibility. He went, instead, to the only person he didn’t want to scare or intimidate - ever.

 

“I dunno dude, do they even sell hundred gallon tubs of cotton candy? That’s like, way more than any person would ever need!”  
Chase was understandably shocked by most of the ideas that Anti had put forward for The Grand Gesture. 

The ideas had so far ranged from simply tying himself up like a little present for the moustached man (which they concluded was too scandalous and not exactly what they were looking for with a Grand Gesture of love), heisting a bubblegum factory and getting Wilford a literal lifetime supply (but Chase has suggested that just one batch of the same flavour might get boring and then Wilford would just have thousands upon thousands of pieces of gum he didn’t want) and, currently, figuring out how to steal essentially barrels upon barrels of cotton candy. Because he was running low on ideas.

“We’re not buyin’ it, that’s the whole fuckn’ point.”

“Nah, nah, I mean like, I don’t think they even make it, dude. It’s just, like, extra transferring between containers and stuff.”

Anti sat in silence for a moment, pouting with his arms crossed, feeling like he’d never actually be able to show that he cared for that big stupid moron.

“I’d be better off just getting the bastard a cotton candy machine fer fucks sake!”

Chase gave him a look.  
“That’s not a super terrible idea, man.”

Anti scoffed.  
“Of course it’s a terrible idea. He could probably just fuckin’ conjure one himself if he wanted it bad enough. I gotta get something he hasn’t really thought of before, ye know? Like one of those old-timey guns with extra parts that make ‘em look all weird.”

Chase looked thoughtful.  
“You could break into a museum?”

Anti nodded.  
“Yeah. I think I might.”

Two days and some very confused police later, Anti came home to the Ego household with a rustic looking box in hand, only to be told by Dark that Wilford was still out on “business”, which was an unusual way of putting it. Typically when Wilford had Hollywood-type obligations to take care of, Dark would say so. He’d hardly call it business. So that was a flicker of annoyance in Antis gut. Even better, he was due home in the evening time so Anti had ample time to get nervous, jittery and glitchy, stewing in his own... anticipation. He had tried to leave the box in his own room so he could do other things, but then if Wilford got home early, he wanted to have it right there, waiting for him. In the end, the only time Anti set the box down was when Dark served their dinner.

“Are we not waiting for Wil?”

“Wilford will be home in due time. He knew he’d miss dinner. He says this business of his is of the utmost importance, and that he may sacrifice a meal with us for it.”

Dark looked calm on the outside, but Anti wondered if he heard a hint of sadness that Wilford would dismiss their time together so flippantly. Anti couldn’t help but feel the same, since it was the one normal thing they did together.

“Anti. You’re shaking the table.”

Anti attempted to stop his jittery legs and shaking hands.

“If I may ask, why are you so... anxious today?”  
Dark put his knife and fork down to pose the question because he was all about table manners and giving people his full attention, the bastard.

“I got Wilf something. A gift. I dunno if it’ll be any good though. I dunno why I’m being so fuckin’ weird about it.”

Dark gestured to the box on the table.

“May I?”

Anti shrugged in response, and Dark took the box with delicate fingers and lifted the lid. Anti watched for a response but Darks stupid face was stone cold as fucking always.

“Well?! Don’t just fuckin’ sit there!”

Dark closed the lid and put the box back down, flashing Anti a look that was impossible to read. But Darks eyes were... softer than usual, and he hadn’t said anything negative, so at the very least it probably wouldn’t trigger one of Wilfords Memories That We Don’t Like To Talk About. And that was something.

After dinner, Anti found himself pacing at the door. Dark had tried to comfort him, telling him Wilford would come when he could, but it didn’t matter. Anti felt like he was about to explode. Just before he threw the box away and lost his nerve entirely, Wilford burst through the door wearing a huge coat, something clearly tucked in the side.

“I’M HO - Oh, hello there Anti, my sweet little corruption, my softest of software, my perfect pet...!”  
Wilford had picked Anti up, swinging him around and showering him in the strangest, but most flattering compliments that only Wilford could come up with. He was clearly in a good mood, and that was a start.

Anti couldn’t help but giggle, in his strange, glitched out way, and he almost lost the grip on the box for a moment, which caused him to panic just a tad. As if he hadn’t been panicking before. 

Wilford put him down again and peppered kisses all over his face. Wilford was such a wonderful experience. Wilford did try to speak but Anti cut him off, nerves about to make him just drop the box and run if he didn’t get this over with.

“WILFORD! - Wilf, I just gotta... I got you something and I’ve been freakin’ myself out about it and I just need ye to shut the fuck up and take it already before I lose my fuckin’ mind.”  
His words came out in a flurry and he probably sounded angrier than he meant to but he shoved the box into Wilfords hands anyway and immediately crossed his arms, waiting for the worst.

Wilford looked a little shocked and like he extra wanted to say something now, but he did indeed open the box.

There was a gasp and an “oh...” and when Anti looked, Wilford had covered his own mouth like he was just that shocked. He still couldn’t tell if that was a bad thing.

Wilford snapped the box shut almost as if he couldn’t bear to look at the ugly thing inside anymore and Anti almost began spewing out apologies when Wilford brought him into a bear hug death grip.

“Oh Anti, thank you... It’s so beautiful!”  
Wilfords voice sounded a little wobbly.

He eventually released Anti and opened the box again, actually taking the contraption out.

“A Smith and Wesson 10, oh my, these are even older than me...”

He held the gun and it fit him like a glove. Anti knew it wasn’t incredibly fancy or sleek or pretty, he just thought it suited Wilford. It seems Wilford thought the same.

Wilford looked over the old weapon like it contained the secrets to the universe, and every now and then, looked Anti in the eye with that same awe and wonder. Anti couldn’t help but blush a few shades of green. He loved it when Wilford got like this.

Eventually, Wilford seemed to break out of his hypnotised state and stuttered over his words a bit before reaching into his own coat and pulling out a box as well, similar size, if not a little longer.

“I got something for you as well! I’m sorry it took so long, and for missing dinner, but I suppose you can’t really rush these things...”  
Wilford, to his credit, looked decidedly less nervous than Anti had. But the look didn’t stop Anti from being shocked at the coincidence that they’d both gotten things for each other at the same time. Dark stood, watching from the kitchen, looking content with himself as he heated up the left overs from dinner.

Anti took Wilfords box in hand, cocking an eyebrow, before lifting the lid.

Inside was a blade. A knife, technically speaking, in a worn looking, rather oddly shaped leather sheath. He look it out with one hand and shoved the box under his arm, removing the sheath carefully.

“Holy shit...”

The blade was shaped not unlike a leaf, with an indent down the middle and almost vain-like patterns stemming from it. The handle was perfect for Anti, impeccable weight and balance, and it seemed to shimmer with the faintest hint of green in the right light. Right at the end, on the base of the grip, was a single emerald.

Anti moved it, twirled it around for a bit, even admired the way it fit perfectly in its sheath. It was one of the most gorgeous blades he’d seen in his life. And, for a moment, he wasn’t incredibly surprised and the fact that he and Wilford had both gotten each other weapons.

With Anti at a loss for words, Wilford spoke up.  
“It’s hand crafted. I wanted it to be just as beautiful as you, a weapon really worthy of your use. It came close.”

“Thank you, Wilford. Seriously. I don’t even...”

“No, thank you silly! Just a fantastic coincidence that it happened at the same time, I think!”

There was a long, beautiful kiss shared between them. It was awesome.

Not half an hour later, Dark happily sitting on the couch, listening to his boyfriends fuck each other half to death. He was glad that he’d dropped a hint here, used his aura a tad there, but overall things went far better than expected. For once, it really was Anti and Wilford doing things themselves. Or, just doing each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Have you got an idea or a request for a fic? Come shoot me a message at markipwiwer.tumblr.com!
> 
> If you like what I do, please consider supporting me at www.ko-fi.com/markipwiwer!


End file.
